


The True Test

by Beth_Penrose



Category: Divergent (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Insurgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Penrose/pseuds/Beth_Penrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a one shot of how I thought the scene in Insurgent where Tris is confronted with her dark self in the sim could have been done better, based on my own experiences with self hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The True Test

I looked in the direction Jeanine had indicated, and what I saw froze me in my tracks. Facing me was myself. My eyes, my body, even my recently shorn locks. But there was something in the way she looked at me. I could feel it radiating off of her, the hatred and disgust and anger that chokes me when I think about myself for too long is what this figment was made of. But even as it mimicked my cautious actions I had to be sure. I had to ask. “What are you?”  
“I’m you, Tris. I’m the real you.” The words made me want to throw up my hands, to expunge her. This could not be me. But before I could do anything it began running towards the glass barrier between us. It careened through, raining broken glass upon us. Before I could even decide what to do it was slamming me into the opposite wall. Every muscle of my body screamed to push back, but I knew what the test required.  
“I won’t fight you.”  
“I’ll make you fight me!” The declaration was filled with the haughty anger I hated. So sure of the battle. The only way I wouldn’t claim that war cry as my own is if I distanced myself from it.  
“You’re not me!”   
“I am. I’m what they fear when they look at you.” The words stung as much as the fist it was driving into my nose. As it continued its assault the room disintegrated around us. I prayed for the open air to swallow us both whole. But it grabbed me tight, not about to risk letting me go. And when it whispered in my ear it was almost as a lover’s embrace. “You killed Will. And your parents. You’re deadly.” It was on the last word that I finally reacted, throwing the mirror image off of me. It landed on its feet to face me. “No one’s gonna love you, Tris. They’re not gonna miss you. The world will be better off without you. One less Divergent ruining everything.” I faced it with a half grin, a cockiness I didn’t feel but desperately wanted to. “And no one will ever, ever forgive you for what you’ve done.” There it was, my greatest fear. The knowledge, deep inside, that I was beyond saving, beyond redemption. Like a prayer I responded.  
“You’re wrong.” The air between us fell silent and I thought perhaps my declaration would calm the specter. “Because I will.” If I had hoped my synthetic confidence would subdue it I was wrong. Instead it scoffed.  
“You can do better than that.” And it ran at me, mighty enough for the ground to crack and fall away. When it reached me it was ready with fists up. “Is that the best you’ve got? That’s a child’s hope. That’s pathetic. Just like you. What does it matter if you forgive yourself? That just proves what a monster you really are, if you could ever forgive what you’ve done.” Its fists and its words were coming with equal force and speed. But I had to let it continue. Even better, I had to encourage it.  
“What do you know?”  
“I know everything. I know how you want to die, how you wish it was you that had plummeted off that cliff to the ground. It should have been. Everyone else around you dies, why can’t you? You should let me kill you. It would save Christina, Four, all of them so much pain. If you were ever Abnegation that’s what you would want.”   
I knew it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. I tried to remember all the good I had done, the lives that I must have saved. But the pain of its fists blocked out the memories. Searching ofr any hope in the whirlwind I snatched onto the memory of the little girl in the Candor compound, shaking, as Eric held a gun to her head, and my body crashing into his to save her. Violence had saved us then, but now pacifism would have to work. So I clung to the memory as it kept spitting vitrol at me. “That one doesn’t matter. Not in light of all you’ve done. If you think you can erase your sins just like that you don’t deserve to try.” Just as I was beginning to forget her face, and I was sure I would have to throw it off of me just to keep breathing against the pain the sim ended, and I was left facing Four. My breath was coming hard, but a grin spread across my face. That had been the test all along; could I survive my own hatred without violence until someone rescued me?


End file.
